


unfunctionally illiterate

by RaspberryCareBear



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Military Uniforms, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, armin teaches you how to read, illiterate, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28806957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryCareBear/pseuds/RaspberryCareBear
Summary: Having a cushy library job at the royal palace sounds like a blessing.  Except for the fact that you and your mother's life depends on it, and you don’t know how to read.A historical palace AU where (y/n) is put in a tough situation.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir
Comments: 57
Kudos: 192





	1. Call to Action

**Author's Note:**

> The reader will have the name (y/n) Saulles.
> 
> Enjoy!

You never expected to be so angry in a place so beautiful. More generally you never expected to be here at all. Surrounded by white marble walls accompanied by accents of yellow and blue ornate furbishing. This wasn’t a place designed for anyone of your class. Nor are your invitors expecting someone like you. You straighten your back to better compose yourself. You're the only one in this long hallway which in no way helps ease your anxiety.

You look down to see your hands gently clutching the letter you received, stating that the Saulles family has to repay its debt to the palace in person. The only problem being that this is not _your_ family's debt. This was none other than the work of your father that left you and your mother 19 years ago just before your birth. You are aware that he worked for the royal government before abandoning you and your mother only to flee to god knows where. As if the experience wasn’t painful enough for your mother, 2 weeks ago you and your mother received a letter from the palace. The letter stating that it was recently brought to attention that your father had indirectly stolen a plentiful amount of money before disappearing. The letter requested the presence of the money your father had stolen as well as your father and immediate family in front of the royal court.

You waited in the expensively decorated hallway leading to the royal court with neither of those things. Family wise you only have your currently bedridden mother that can barely stand as well as a seamstress’s salary. Albeit you're wearing your best clothes you feel awfully undressed compared to the portraits surrounding you.

You don’t have doubt that the reason the letter requested the presence of your immediate family is to kill a few of them as punishment. You've heard stories of the way the court handles direct crimes against the palace. But you have hope that once you explain your situation to the royal court they will make some sort of compromise or send soldiers to look for your father. You know that the court is educated, and they will understand that killing yourself and your mother wouldn't benefit the palace or harm your father. And it’s not like you have another option.

A soldier breaks open the court doors. He’s in the typical dark blue freshly pressed military uniform with yellow buttons and accents. He’s tall with short parted black hair, freckles, and light brown eyes.

“Richard Saulles and his family may now enter the royal court!” he says rather loudly and uniformly considering you're the only one in the hallway. You’re once again reminded that you are not who the court is expecting as you fake a confident walk into the courtroom. When you enter you see three judges at the front of the room. Along the walls, you see what you assume to be other law associates. What grabs your attention the most are the armed guards in between you and the seated. You feel ice cold as you wonder if any of those guards would’ve been ordered to execute your family if your father had shown up like planned. There’s also the possibility that the judges won't believe you and decide to end your life today. You force yourself out of that thought as you focus on standing as straight and confident as possible in the center of the room. You feel sweat drip down your forehead as every pair of eyes in the room locks on you.

You take a look at what appears to be the head judge sitting in between the two others. He has the typical appearance of an old man. His eyes are sunken and tired-looking, he wears glasses, has noticeable wrinkles on his face, and his hair is receded and gray. He also has a gray scruffy-looking full beard and mustache. Albeit everyone else in the room looks rather wide-eyed and confused he has an amused smirk on his face. You’ve heard stories about this man, Dhalis Zachary, sentencing people to death. You feel small and not at all noteworthy standing in the center of the room. Everybody's seats are elevated except yours. You feel as if someones waiting to pounce on you. After a few moments of thick silence, the center judge clears his throat.

“And this is everybody?”, he says with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes, your honor.”, you say.

“And you are?” he asks informally.

“(y/n) Saulles biological daughter of Richard Saulles.”

“Please read the letter we sent you Ms. Saulles”

Without hesitation, you open the letter in front of everyone. Your eyes don’t brush over the words. You instead stare at a single point on the paper and state its contents word for word from memory. You’re too nervous to even try to follow the words on the page.

“Now that we’ve read the same letter would you mind telling me why on earth his daughter has come alone.”

You give a speech about your situation. The same speech you had rehearsed every day for the past two weeks. You force your voice to be loud, but you can’t help that it breaks a few times as you flicker your eyes to the soldiers. Once you're done with your monologue the amusement has been wiped off the white-haired judge's face and has been replaced with boredom.

“So you have no idea where your father is,” he asks.

“That is correct, your honor.”

“You understand lying to the royal court is an act of high treason and punishable by death,” he says. After your affirmative reply, he starts talking to the judges to the left and right of him in a volume you can’t hear. It goes on for about two minutes before he looks at you again to speak.

“Due to the family relations of your father being cut we are unable to fully punish him for his crimes through you or your family,” he says with a hint of disappointment that you find disturbing.

“Until we can find your father, someone in your household must repay his debt, this is law. And with the known condition of your mother, and your previously said truth that you have no other immediate family you must be the one to repay his debt,” he says.

You take a deep breath out relieved that you and your mother will not be executed. The idea of working off debt seems like more of a reward than a punishment. You’ve worked all your life, but now there’s the possibility you’ll be ordered to work at the palace! You guess the struggles of your father abandoning you are finally paying off.

“Due to further law detailing paying off palace debt you must have the same position of employment that your father had when he worked in the palace,” he states. You know nothing about who your father was due to your mother refusing to talk about him. So you have no idea what position he could’ve held. The judge looks down at the papers in front of him which you assume are details of the legal conflict you’re caught in the middle of.

“That job being an archivist at the royal library.” He starts writing on some paper as he continues talking.

“Either you take this job or you and your mother will be executed,” he says calmly. After he’s done writing he gives the paper and pen to a soldier who hands the paper to you.

“By signing that contract you’re agreeing to work as one of the library's archivists until your debt is paid or the government finds your father,” he says. 

Once you pick up the pen and paper the soldier leans over so you can place the paper and write on his back. You do as everyone expects and scribble onto the line where your name is supposed to be. The soldier looks a bit taken back when he looks over the paper before giving it to someone you assume takes care of royal contracts.

“Alright you're dismissed.” says the judge.

Having a cushy library job at the royal palace sounds like a blessing. Except for the fact that you and your mother's life depends on it, and you don’t know how to read.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

You make your long walk home past the districts and crooked streets of Noshusia, the capital of your home country. Albeit you’ve lived all your life in one of the richest most lively cities in the world you find yourself housed in a humble cottage in the outskirts of the city. The city surrounding the palace is filled with people living their everyday life buying, selling, and working. You envy the normality they maintain. You take notice of the occasional banners hanging from buildings and street lamps. They’re blue and yellow with a sun in the middle mirroring your flag and indicating your national colors. Soon you will be regularly surrounded by the colors. You hope you won't get sick of them.

By the time you make it back to your cottage, it’s nightfall. The familiar sight of your yard with overgrown weeds makes you feel more at peace than you have all day. It also fills you with a deep feeling of melancholy. During the whole walk home your head was cloudy with the thought of your newly appointed job. After the court dismissed, you were told by one of the palace staff managers, Petra Ral, that you are to report to the palace chambers the day before you start working, so in 2 days. During this time you will get your room assigned as well as get yourself situated and educated on what your life will look like till your debt is paid. You had a prime opportunity to tell Petra right there that you didn’t know how to read, but decided against it. You reflected on the fact that if you get fired and cannot continue your job it will violate the contract and you will be executed.

You open the brown creaky door to be met with your mother and best friend, Mina Carolina, sitting at the dining room table with a gas lamp between them. Saying you're grateful for Mina is an understatement. You’ve been friends with her for as long as you remember. Besides being honest, trustworthy, kind, a great coworker at your seamstress job, and someone you can always turn to for advice she offered to take care of your worrisome mother while you were at the palace court.

“(y/n)!” your mother says as she tries to get up and clutch you. You know the situation at the palace has been worrying her to a point of exhaustion. Through the dim glow of the lamp you can see there are bags under her eyes and you can tell she’s been crying. Being put under this amount of stress is in no way good for her already worsened condition. You and Mina force her to sit back down.

“Don’t worry mother everything's alright,” you lie.

“Oh dear, I was so worried I can’t believe your father still haunts us almost 20 years later if he was right in front of me I’d… ” your mother starts but Mina cuts her off not wanting your mother to get too emotionally riled up. You sit down with the two of them.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Tell us what happened!” Mina says. You smile at the breaking of her usually polite attitude.

You explain to them the events that occurred at the palace as well as the job that was requested of you. Your heart breaks as you see tears fill in your mother's eyes. Both of them are aware of your illiteracy. Your mother just like you never got the chance for formal education and cannot read nor write. Mina on the other hand knows some basics, but she has nowhere near the skills you need to know. The composure you’ve been keeping up all day crumbles as your head falls into your hands and tears well up in your eyes.

“Can’t you ask for a job transfer I’m sure they’ll understand!” says Mina trying to bring some sort of optimism into your situation.

“Oh don’t be so hopeful you know how ridget palace laws are,” you say voice breaking. Albeit you're seated right next to the two people you’re closest to, you feel completely alone. Your mother squeezes your arm suddenly looking more determined than hopeless.

“Your life’s not over. If you’ve made it this far without reading you can last til the debt is payed,” your mother says. Mina holds your hand and nods. 

“And it’s not like you can’t learn. I can teach you the little I know! We can find someone to teach you the basics before you go!” says Mina.

You feel a bit better and blink your tears away. Your mother and Mina are right. It’s not like grown people can’t learn to read, and you’ve made it through all your life without the ability. You take a deep breath in and give them a forced smile in hopes to wipe the negative emotion off their faces.

“You’re right, Mina can you come over tomorrow?” you say. 

“Of course!” Mina says. Once again you’re blessed with Mina’s kindness as she offers to periodically visit your mothers while you're off living at the palace. After you and your mother agree Mina mentions how dark it’s getting and she gives you one last hug before leaving. 

Alone with your mother, you debate asking about your father. On one hand, she’s been through enough stress these past 2 weeks. On the other hand you realize this information may be highly useful regarding that you will have his old position. You decide to ask her now and never bring it up again. 

“Mother, who was father?” you ask. She hesitates before answering and once again sadness overcomes her face.

“He was a man of letters. Something I never understood. I know he was quite educated on the writings of history. I wish I could tell you more about what his career was like, but I never connected with him in that aspect.” says your mother. You nod.

“It’s alright mother, I don’t think I would understand either. It’s getting late, let's go to bed,” you say. 

After you help your mother to bed you bring the lamp to your room. You sit down on your bed taking in your surroundings knowing that you’ll soon be deserting them. Your room doesn't have much space so there’s not much to notice. You have a bed, vanity, and dresser all made of dark wood. The walls and ceiling are a faded off white and just like the rest of the cottage the floor is a goldish shade of brown. There are scraps of fabric and thread that you’ve borrowed from your job scattered around the room. You never spent enough time in your room to be bothered by the mess. The fabric reminds you that you need to go quit your job now that you’ve been hired at the palace. You hate to leave Mina working at the shop without you. You don’t know how palace policy works in regard to visiting family. You have to remember to ask. You change out of your clothes and turn off the lamp, finally laying in your bed after an exhausting day. You smile to yourself thinking about how you scribbled absolute gibberish onto the contract given to you in the courtroom. You’re too tired to worry anymore as you sink into your bed and doze off into sleep.


	2. Meeting the Mentor

Honestly, you were expecting something a bit more refined from the palace. 

Sure you weren't anticipating a carriage plated in gold. But you thought it reasonable to expect a carriage that didn’t look like it would fall to pieces before making it to the palace.

You're standing with your mother outside your cottage watching the coach come closer. Looking at your mother's judgy facial expression you can tell she had the same idea. If you didn’t know the palace was sending a carriage for you, you would have assumed that the wooden transportation pulling up was simply one of your neighbors.

You’ve appreciated your home more in the last few days than the last 19 years of your life. You try to take in every detail of your surroundings not wanting to be taken away from them. Perhaps you're being dramatic. You doubt you will be forbidden to visit home, albeit it is your first time living away from your cottage and you don’t know when you’ll return.

Just when you think the carriage will halt on the road in front of your home it continues forward eventually making an abrupt stop in your front lawn.

“Sasha I told you to stop!” says one of two drivers.

“I did! I was just a bit late… ” says the other driver in protest. Your mother looks increasingly critical as one of the horses starts grazing on your overgrown grass.

One of the drivers steps down from the carriage. Getting a closer look at him you see he’s wearing a dark blue coachman uniform. He has a slim build, bright hazel eyes, and gray hair that’s shortly trimmed. His coach mate has a matching uniform. She has brunette hair that’s put in a ponytail with bangs that fall over the sides of her face.

“Good morning, Ms. Saullies. My name is Connie Springer. Me and Sasha Braus are here to take you to the royal palace.”

“Sorry, we rode onto your lawn!” Sasha says abruptly. Connie gives her a death glare.

“I have to apologize to my coachmate. She's new to the job and still has to learn proper etiquette!”

After a moment of awkward silence, your mother adverts her attention from the carriage on your front lawn to you.

“Oh dear, come back soon.” She says bringing you into a warm embrace. You nod and assure her you will. You hand your small amount of luggage to Connie. After Connie takes the luggage into the back of the carriage he opens the door so you can step inside.

“She’s the one responsible, I wasn’t driving,” Connie whispers to you as you step inside. 

“What did he say?” Sasha asks from the front of the coach. Even though you’ve been feeling a strong sense of despair the past few days you can’t help but giggle. You feel a sort of understanding with Sasha. Both of you are new to your job and have little to no idea of what you’re doing. You hope you can find your own sort of “Connie” at the palace to help guide you. Connie closes the door and goes to the front of the carriage to start the horses. You wave to your mother one last time before the horses start trotting. The carriage makes an abrupt turn out of your front lawn which causes Connie to start yelling at Sasha again.

Eventually, enough distance gains between you and your cottage to the point you can no longer see your home. Trying to find some sort of predictability you focus on the familiar streets around your address. 

During the past two days, Mina taught you everything she knows literary-wise. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep you busy and distracted during your last days at home. Being an archivist you hope to spend most of your time maintaining the physical books and scriptures rather than actually reading them. 

Albeit you’re scared out of your wits you can’t help the feeling of gratefulness granted you're chance to work at the palace. Not everyone that wants to work at the palace has the opportunity. And you know there’s a lot that would like the opportunity. 

Even though most of your earnings will be going towards paying off your father's debt you’ll still have a salary to send home to your mother. It’s more than you earned at your seamstress job which you’re quite pleased about.

The main thing you’ll have to worry about is not being fired. You’re sure your superiors won't be heartless enough to send you to your death by dismissing you, but if your secret gets out you can see how higher-ups won't be as sympathetic. As you recalled before working at the palace is something many people have an inclination for. Not being able to perform your job while there are people more qualified than you trying to take your position could be devastating.

You’ll need to find people to trust and help you out. You aren’t planning on telling people about your illiteracy carelessly, but you surmise it’ll be impossible not to eventually tell someone eventually.

The carriage continues to roughly move through the streets and you make abrupt stops and turns. You occasionally hear people curse Sasha's driving around you.

Connie slides open the small privacy door behind his head to speak to you.

“I’m sorry about the rough driving miss. As I mentioned before Sashas is a complete idiot.”

“When did you mention that!” Sasha says back, looking away from the street to face Connie. The moment she looks away a man walks in front of the carriage and Sasha makes another abrupt turn almost tipping the carriage over.

“I didn’t have to mention it! You make the case quite clear yourself!” Connie says gripping onto the armrest of the driver's seat for dear life.

“So why’re you going to the palace, miss?” Sasha asks.

“I’m becoming an archivist at the library.” You say.

“Wow miss! That sounds important.” Sasha says smiling at you. Connie immediately turns her head back to face the road.

“Hold on are you the one that got a job after that court hearing?” Connie asks. 

Your stomach sinks now knowing people have been talking about your situation.

“Yes, I am.” You say a bit disheartened.

“Well, that’s one way to get a job. How did you do it?” Connie says. You're a bit taken back at the idea that you had planned this whole situation.

“Oh no! I’m just paying off my father's debt.”

“Your family has a debt to the palace and they’re letting you pay it off?” Connie asks in disbelief.

“Yes, I’m very fortunate.”

“You are lucky miss. Getting a job that’s not blue-collar isn’t taken lightly. The higher staff is like its own high society.” Connie says. Even though you're enjoying your coach people's company, they're starting to ignite your nervousness. 

“Your meal plan must be majestic,” Sasha adds looking dazed off into the road. You swear you can see drool dripping down her mouth.

You think back to the comment Connie said. 

“What do you mean by high society?” You ask.

“Well from what I’ve noticed most of them seem to be poshly educated. There’s a lot of hierarchy and nobility.” Connie says.

Connie’s comments unquestionably ignite your nerves. You stare warily out the window. How long will you last before some unsympathetic nobility decides they’re sick of you and gets you fired?

Sasha seems to pick up on the worrisome silence.

“Not every white-collar is like that though. Historia was the one that saved me and Connie from being fired after we crashed the last coach.” Sasha says.

Historia. You have to remember that name. 

“YOU crashed the last coach. And now we’re stuck with this piece of crap.” Connie says while motioning to the carriage.

As you get closer to the palace you can increasingly smell the salty water. Even though Noshusia is an oceanside city you rarely have the time to make the journey to the beach. Living on the outskirts of the city you’re farthest away from the ocean. The palace on the other hand is right next door to the body of water.

“I’m going to starve before we get there,” Sasha says in a tone full of agony.

“Sasha we ate before we left!” Connie says.

“I know, but I can smell food.”

You definitely don’t smell food, but you consider the idea that your mother might’ve packed you some as a surprise. You reach into the back of the coach and dig through your luggage to find that indeed your mother did surprise you with some dry foods wrapped in cloth. You smile at the gesture. You decide to indulge your coach mates.

“My mother packed me some food and I'm willing to share.” You say.

Sasha immediately gives the lead ropes attached to the horses to Connie and she peeks her head through the privacy window of the coach.

“You’re really something miss I don’t know how I can repay you,” Sasha says with tears in her eyes. You give her a smile and hand her a chunk of bread and a handful of nuts for the both of them to share. Nevertheless, Sasha ends up eating most of it by herself.

Before you know it the palace starts to come into view. The massive building is mostly blue and white with accents of goldish yellow. There are white pillars tastefully placed on the outside wall. From this distance, you’re able to see faint outlines of the famous east and west gardens.

Public opinion wise your country has been thriving. The peace treaty proposed by your country recently ended a twenty-year-long war. Albeit the peace treaty was something commonly wanted by the people. 

With the palace in the center of the country's most populated city, the royals are forced not to try anything that could result in an uprising at their front door.

You approach the wall and gate blocking the palace square. After you’re let inside you get a better view of the massive fountain in front of the building depicting a religious creation scene of the founder Ymir.

Even though you were just here a few days ago for your court hearing the palace still fills you with awe and patriotism.

With the carriage now halted a safe distance away from the palace, Connie opens the door to let you out. After you wave your goodbyes to Sasha she goes off to park the carriage.

You assure Connie that your luggage isn’t that heavy and he doesn't have to carry it for you, but he insists.

Even though you're uncomfortable with the special treatment, you're glad and a bit proud of yourself to have already made a positive familiarity with two people working at the palace.

After you’re let through another gate you make it inside the grand entrance. 

Just like you remember the floor of the entrance is covered by a dark blue carpet. There are ornate chairs and stools you imagine cost more than your lifetime earnings as well as priceless paintings displaying various members of the royal family.

Further scanning the room you see Petra standing up. Most likely refusing to sit on the furniture just like you. Once she locks eyes with you she walks over.

“You came earlier than I expected,” Petra says.

You can thank Sasha's reckless driving for that.

“There wasn’t much traffic,” You say.

“That’s good to hear,” Petra says smiling.

You don’t know Petra personally, but you appreciate her politeness as an authority figure.

Petra leads you and Connie through the hallways to the east wing. Through the windows to your left, you can see the courtyard decorated with yet another fountain as well as the greenest vegetation you’ve ever seen. You can see a few noble ladies in up to the minute dresses leisurely sipping tea. 

As a previous seamstress, you know how clients want dresses exactly like theirs. Even from a distance, you can admire the intricate stitching. You indulge the daydream of sewing with such expensive fabrics. You’d choose sewing any day over working with piles of decaying paper.

Petra seems to notice your staring.

“That’s Lady Abel and Florian Reiss. You’ll see them quite often.”

After further walking, you make it to the east most stairs. After you climb them Petra points to your room. You ask Connie to simply place your belongings inside your room before you part with him. You want to see where you’ll be working before you get situated in your room.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you miss! You can call me and Sasha whenever you need a ride.” He says smiling. You assure him you will and wave your goodbyes. On the topic of leaving the palace, you think back to visiting your mother.

“Ms. Rall, what are palace policies on visiting family?” You ask.

“Family can’t visit, but you can definitely visit them. You can leave whenever you wish. I wouldn’t advise you to do it often though. Working hours rarely leave enough time to.”

You and Petra start your way to the library. Being on the ground floor on the east side of the palace it’s actually quite close to your room.

“I’ve arranged for a staff worker to show you around,” Petra says as you come towards the entrance of the library. As you step into the doorway you can’t help but become motionless. You're unable to move as your eyes become fixed on the room you're entering.

The dome-shaped ceiling is taller than any chapel you’ve ever been in. Given the high windows and amber-colored wood bookshelves, the room has a golden glow. The beams supporting the roof intricately overlap to circle around the glass section of the roof. The bookshelves are stacked on top of each other and there are five different partial floors in the single room. In the middle of the room is a white stone statue displaying one of the nine founders. There are occasional tables placed around for reading as well as red carpeting that serves as a refreshing change from the blue carpeting lining the rest of the palace.

Petra smiles at your awe. You can tell she notices someone she wants to see as she waves over a woman with long blonde hair and large blue eyes. Once the woman comes over and you exchange pleasantries you learn her name is Historia Reiss and that she specifically works with religious texts. She’s also going to show you around the library. You take notice that she has the same last name as the Ladies in the courtyard and you wonder if she has some sort of noble affiliation. You remember Sasha mentioning her name in a positive light and your nerves soften.

Without realizing it a man with light brown hair and an undercut has snuck up and situated himself next to Petra.

“Come to see me did you?” he says to Petra. At the sound of his voice you see something inside Petra switch.

“Of course not, I'm showing the new archivist around here.”

He looks you up and down.

“Oh, you must be the court case. Oh, the tragedy brought on by your father. I can tell you were already scraping for your life just looking at you.” The man says. You find yourself taken back at such a direct comment, but you bite your tongue. You can’t afford to start fights.

”Word of advice (y/n), don’t bother getting guidance from Oruo.” Petra says. 

“What do you mean? Look at her, she’ll need all the help she can get.”

“You're sure dramatic enough to be a poet laureate,” Petra says before you can even consider responding.

Before you know it they’re bickering.

Historia drags you away from the scene without feeling the need to break the fighting. This tells you their bickering is a regular occurrence.

You think back to the fact that Oruo decided you’ll “need all the help” you can get after just looking at you. You feel a sense of self-pity that’s soon replaced by anger. He can insult you all he wants. That doesn't change the fact you’ll be working on what you assume to be similar footing. If he wasn’t intimidated by you he wouldn’t have bothered speaking to you. You fathom he just wanted to “put you in your place” as a citizen not born into a higher class. You’re put at ease by your own reasoning and your mind is left without the burden of, what you’ve come to confidently believe, his stupid-looking face.

Once you’ve gained enough distance away from Petra and Oruo you find your eyes once again tracing over the massive room.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I was the same way when I first saw it.” Historia says with a soft smile on her face.

“This is just one of the three libraries. I’ll show you around,” she says motioning you to follow her.

“The place we're in right now is the newest extension. It houses most of the modern works and it still has room to grow.”

She leads you to a side door that connects to another wing.

“Here is the historical section. It’s where you’ll be spending most of your time.”

This section of the library looks completely different than the previous, but it’s no less beautiful. The ceiling is shorter, but the length of the room makes up for it. The ceiling has a mural painted onto it and the floors and pillars are marble. The bookshelves covering the walls are dark wood and lighting wise the room is definitely darker.

There are more founder statues too. That’s most definitely a common theme around here.

On your way to the religious section, you try to fill the silence.

“How long have you been working here?” You ask.

“Since I was 15. So around four years.”

“They let a 15-year-old handle sacred texts?” You ask in surprise, Historia chuckles.

“They did. I’ve always been interested in religious works. I spent a great deal of time educating myself about them before even touching them.”

You assume Historia must’ve had a thorough education. 

“What did you do before you got hired here?” Historia asks.

“I was a seamstress. I hope to become one again once I pay off my debt. It’s my passion.” You say with the assumption that Historia just like everyone else you’ve met has heard about your personal legal affairs.

You make it to another door in the historical works section that leads you to a staircase. Once you and Historia climb it you're greeted with the last library, the one housing religious texts. 

This is by far the smallest library. Besides the mural on the ceiling depicting various religious scenes, the walls and bookshelves are white. There are two semi floors of books. Accents of gold are sprinkled around through various furniture, wall pieces, and outlines of the murals. The floor offers a pattern of white and brown.

“This room is personally my favorite. The astronomy tower is also connected to this section.” Historia says with a smile.

“I know you start working tomorrow, but I was wondering if you could help me with something? ” Historia asks. You agree to help her move some new books to the historical section of the library. 

  * :•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•



“I can take the last few books, it's really not a problem.” You say. 

“Alright thank you so much (y/n). I’ll see you tomorrow!” Historia says before leaving for the day.

Moving the books ended up taking the rest of the day, but you didn’t mind helping Historia. It helped you get a better layout of the massive library and you’ve become better acquainted with her.

You're supposed to take these books to a specific room in the historical section. Historia told you that they are just extra copies of original texts so you’re not too worried about handling them on your own.

Once you reach the door you become confident enough to twist the knob using one hand and balance the books on another. Due to proper maintenance, the door hinges in the palace are certainly less rusty and easier to open than the ones back home.

You turn the knob and swing it open with a force greater than you intended. You feel a thud on the other side. 

_Oh no_

You try to look around the opposite side of the now open door only to literally butt heads with whoever you already just hit with the door. 

The impact causes you to drop the books you were carrying. You still haven’t seen who you’ve bumped into, but you can tell you’ve made a shit impression. Looking up from the books now covering the ground you lock eyes with whoever you just ran into.

Large blue eyes glare at your own as you hurry to apologize.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You say reaching down to start picking up the books you’ve dropped.

Not daring to look up at him you hope he’s one of the blue-collar staff and not some noble being interrupted by a second-class citizen. Being disturbed by your aggressive door opening while trying to read up on some important matter that will influence the state of politics.

But to your relief, he squats down to help you pick them up. You glare up at him to see he’s still looking at you.

Now being calm enough to thoroughly look at him you see he’s got a boyish face and a small snub nose. His blond hair is styled in a long undercut, and he’s wearing dress pants as well as a pale sweater vest. He definitely dresses the part to work in a library. His frame is relatively small, but you can tell he’s defined.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” He says, continuing to stare at you.

“You haven't, I just got hired here. I'm starting tomorrow. I was just helping someone move some books.” The man looks at you for a second connecting dots in his head.

“Oh, you must be (y/n) I’m Armin I’ll be working with you as an archivist.” You're starting to get sick of people knowing who you are before you introduce yourself. You give him a polite empty smile and you continue gathering the books from the floor. There’s once again an awkward silence as he helps you.

“Oh we’ve got a new copy of The Song of The Blessid I love this work,” he says obviously trying to make some sort of conversation and ease the tension.

“I’ve never read it.” You say, immediately resurrecting the silence. You’d ask him what the book was about, but you’ve just about picked up every book and you would like to flee from this interaction as soon as possible. You quickly set the books down on the table like Historia told you to and turn back to Armin.

“Thank you, Armin I look forward to working with you.” You say with another empty polite smile.

“No worries, see you tomorrow.” He says before watching you walk out of the room.

During your walk back to your room you shake off the awkward encounter you just had with your future coworker. Remembering his statement of seeing you tomorrow you realize you have probably been assigned to help him with something the next day. You don’t know who he is, but you can never be too careful with politeness.

When you make it to your room you make sure to open the door with less ferocity. The image of your room takes you in all at once. The walls and Persian style carpeting are a shade of light blue and the ceiling along with your bed, dresser, desk, and empty bookshelf are a well maintained white wood. Your large window draped with dark blue curtains displays a scene of the east garden. To match the rest of the palace there are accents of goldish yellow in the cushions and carpeting. As if you couldn’t be spoiled enough you see a door that leads to a full marble bathroom with running water. 

If you knew how to write properly you would already be hunched over your desk by now elaborately describing your bedroom to your mother.

You carefully sit down on the puffy sheets of your bed. Even though they’re technically yours to sleep in, to you they feel as precious as glass.

You happily unpack your belongings while apricating the room you get to call yours for the time being. By the time you change into your nightgown, you're already half asleep. You stuff yourself under the covers.

Drifting off to sleep you can’t imagine why your father would want to run away from a living like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, reader what’s up. I hope you like Armin in a sweater vest as much as I do because you won't stop seeing him in them anytime soon. 
> 
> I based the palace as well as the libraries on real life.
> 
> The palace is based on the Winter Palace in Saint Petersburg, Russia.
> 
> The modern library is based on the Library of Parliament in Ottawa, Canada.
> 
> The historical library is based on the Austrian National Library in Vienna, Austria.
> 
> And finally, the religious library is based on the Admont Abbey Library in Admont, Austria.
> 
> If you want to get a better mental image of the different places you can look them up. Comments are appreciated and really help motivate me so feel free to leave one below!


	3. Meeting the Mentor pt. 2

You always found portraits unnerving.

The hyper-realism mixed with the corpse-like stiffness made looking at them feel like you were having a humorless staring contest. Only staring contests usually happen between children. And you’re a grown woman locking eyes with the royal family.

Lazily gazing upon the painting you're not drawn to it due to artistic awe. As the centerpiece of the wall, your eyes naturally fall onto it.

You assume the portrait to be at least 15 years old due to the assumed age of the people in the painting. In the back of the canvas, there’s the current king and queen, Grisha and Carla Yeager. You haven't seen them in person yet, but you're familiar with their openness to the public due to the parties they’ve hosted. Child versions of their two sons are also in the painting. From further common knowledge, you take the oldest as Prince Zeke and the youngest as Prince Eren. They seem to have more reserves than their parents. Showing themselves at fewer parties and maintaining a certain privacy their parents don’t.

You’re left to dully wonder what their round faces have matured into. The only reference you have is the single moment reflected in the painting they’ve been trapped in.

You can see how spending so much paint and effort to visually capture a specific somebody can be considered egotistical. You guess It’s not enough for the royals to be remembered by their actions without the robes and crowned jewels perfectly replicated with expensive oil paints.

In your 19 years of life, you have come to believe what gives death its defining beauty is that when someone dies all that’s left of them is memory and their influence on others. All superficial is left to the worms.

But the paintings reject and insult this process of death and memory. 

Of course, someone from your class would have these thoughts. You scoff at yourself. Just looking at a wall was all it took for you to get riled up about nobility.

“(y/n) did you say something?” Historia asks. Due to the investment in your train of thought she completely snuck up on you. You’re mentally brought back to your surroundings. You in the library. You arrived early this morning for your first day.

“No, I didn’t.” You respond.

“Oh okay, well today you're going to be helping Armin with recollecting and checking out texts.”

Well, that definitely sounds like it involves reading. Historia takes note of your suddenly worried expression. 

“It’s easier than you think, don't worry. You were actually going to start learning about the Archival process today but we realized we were missing someone for checkout duty. Compared to that this is a piece of cake. And one of our best working staff members will be there to help you!”

That reconciliation did absolutely nothing to ease your nerves. 

Firstly, you assume maintaining books involves very little reading and so it sounds 100 times easier than today’s task. Another thing being that you practically assaulted “sweater vest” yesterday. Historia isn’t aware of either of these facts and you'd like to keep it that way. You smile and tell her that you're just nervous since it’s your first day. She seems convinced and leads you to the front desk of the modern library section. 

On your short walk there you remember the empty bookshelf in your room and the fact you should really practice reading.

“I noticed an empty bookshelf in my room. Am I allowed to check out books?” 

“Yes, all staff get access to the library. Isn’t it wonderful!” She says.

A part of you wants to tell Historia about your illiteracy for the reason you don’t want your friendship built on lies, but you still don’t know whether or not to trust her. You’d also hate to disappoint someone as kind as her.

At the front desk, you see sweater vest in yet another sweater vest. This time it’s cable knit and brown.

“Armin this is (y/n), (y/n) Armin.” Historia says. 

“Actually we met yesterday,” You correct her.

“Oh, then in that case you two can start working. Don’t let me keep you waiting with formalities.” Historia walks off and the two of you are left alone.

“Right now I'm just sorting the books we got returned. We usually do this while waiting for someone to check out.” Armin says.

Armin pulls out a giant binder from behind the desk.

“Since so many people have access to this library we don’t use a normal card system.”

You have no idea what a card system is due to your lack of experience so you find it impossible to care. You still give him an engaged looking nod.

“So instead we just write down what books are being borrowed and who's checking them out. Once it’s returned we check it off. It seems fairly simple for the size of the library but it’s been working great for the past decades.”

He gestures toward some half-empty carts behind the front desk.

“After we update the book log we group the books that are from similar sections into the same carts so they’re easier to file away later. Once I’m done checking them in you can just sort them into religious, modern or historical.”

Since you can’t read the book titles you know that wouldn't work out. The closest you’ll get to sorting them is by looking at possible cover art. On the other hand if you got to use the log you could match the titles of the books to the titles on the page just by looking at the shapes of the letters.

“Actually could I be the one doing the book logging?” You ask.

You understand that your previous comment probably came off as a bit pushy and strange since you offered no explanation. You’d give some sort of excuse but you couldn’t think of one. You inwardly cringe.

“Oh, okay that’s alright.” He says, sounding a bit confused. 

“I just wanted to be at the front desk if someone came up. I’ll come over if someone comes.” Armin says. Before you know it the two of you are silently working side by side. You check off books from the massive binder fairly slowly and Armin puts them in the carts.

Despite the fact you’re exerting quite a bit of mental energy to match the shapes of horrid looking cursive to the printed letters on the books you’ve gotten into a workflow. The silence is calming and the library is beautiful. What takes you out of your daydream is the man working next to you.

Even though Armin has been nothing but helpful, you feel a sort of annoyance towards him that you can’t pinpoint the reason for. Perhaps it’s in the way he’s telling you to do work you're incapable of doing. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s talking to you in a way that’s respectable even though there’s an obvious class difference. If he talked to you like some lower-class peasant it would without a doubt be unpleasant, but at least you’d understand it. You believe Historia got her position from having some sort of connection with the Reiss's and you assume Armin had a similar lineage experience. You recognize the reason you don’t feel the same way towards Historias politeness is because you remember she helped Connie and Sasha from being fired, and so you sense a moral purity in her actions. All this considered, his uniform politeness makes you paranoid of his true thoughts and feelings.

Albeit you don’t need to be (and can’t imagine being) Armin's best friend you want him to be fond enough of you to not want you fired. Reciting the last few awkward interactions in your head you decide it’ll be best to have at least one nice conversation. You’d also like some book recommendations for reading practice.

“Do you have any book recommendations? I want to fill the shelf in my room, but the library is so big I don’t know where to start.” You say breaking the silence. You’re not facing him but the air around the two of you suddenly feels lighter.

“Well, what do you like to read?” He asks.

It’s a completely innocent question, but it still gives you mental panic. 

“Oh, I’m not really into reading.” You say.

There’s a bit of a pause.

“Well then I’d recommend you start learning what you like. You could start with _Bound for Ruin_ , _The Heart of the Trident_ , _Of Rabbits and Willows_ , _Sign of the Devil's Claw,_ and _A Harlequin's Job_. It's a diverse bundle, but they’re all well-rated and from there you can narrow down to find your favorite genres.”

It’ll probably take you a year and a few basic literacy classes to get through just one of those books, but you still thank Armin for the recs and file them away in your mind. You’ll ask Historia where they are later.

As you continue working you see someone approaching the front desk. So far you can only make them out to be a tall and slender woman.

“Armin, someones coming.” You say.

Armin turns around to see the woman coming into view. You would say she looks pretty disheveled. She’s wearing what you assume to be a blacksmith apron due to the fact that it’s covered with black dust. She’s also got messy middle-parted hair styled into a ponytail with long bangs framing either side of her face.

Intimidating golden eyes look at Armin as the woman presses her hands covered in soot right onto the front desk.

“Armin, where's Historia?”

“I think she’s around the modern fiction section,”

She doesn’t break eye contact with Armin.

“It’s behind the front desk, what? You come here all the time I thought you’d know by now,”

The woman now turns to acknowledge you.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a new Archivist. I just started working today,”. There’s a bit of a pause as she looks you up and down.

“Would you like a rag to wipe your hands down?” You ask, dreading the idea she might touch any other expensive surfaces.

“Stay away from Historia,” she says before ripping her hands off the desk and walking away. Her steps have a sense of urgency and ferocity about them.

“Who was that?” You ask Armin. You’re a bit concerned about the fact that there’s a tall angry woman charging at little Historia.

“Oh, that was Ymir. Her and Historia are close,”

You guess Historia makes friends with even more non-nobility than yourself, Connie, and Sasha. You acknowledging the dark dust on the desk. 

“Where are the rags? I can go clean this up.”

“They're in the back closet.”

You nod before getting up and leaving. 

As you're walking you can’t help but overhear a rather loud conversation to be happening in a library.

“What are you doing here?” You recognize Historias's voice.

“You’ve been ignoring me haven’t you,”

“Of course not I’ve just been busy recently,”

“That’s a lie you're always busy. Why’re you lying to me Historia?”

“Why’re you so intent on knowing what I’m doing every minute of the day don’t you have a job of your own,” 

You're taken back by Historias comment. You assumed she was polite to everyone.

“You didn’t answer my question. Wait, are Abel and Florian giving you shit again?”

There’s a silence where you assume Historia was expected to respond.

“Why are you so intent on listening to them they obviously don’t care about you,” Ymir says.

There’s another moment of silence until Historia breaks into a more passionate dialogue. 

“If they started to really try and tear us apart they’d probably hurt you. I can’t live with that!”

“So what, you’re going to break up with me because your sisters don’t like me?”

“No of course not!” Historia interjects with even more passion. 

“Then you need to settle this out with them.”

Historia starts to protest but Ymir interjects again.

“Take no shit do no harm,” she says before walking away.

You wish you hadn’t eavesdropped on that conversation. It seemed personal and you respect Historia. Albeit if you start arguing in a library you can’t expect people not to hear. There were probably half a dozen people around you that heard the conversation as well.

Out of all the people, you’d think Historia would date Ymirs the last one. You wonder what Historia see’s in her.

You get the rag and cleaning solution out of the closet and make you walk back. At the front desk you see Armin talking to a woman with an elaborately sewed dress with stitching you find familiar.

“What was she doing I just saw her”

“Lady Abel I can’t tell you… ”

“What are you babbling about! It’s a yes or no!”

The lady turns to face you.

“Hey you tell me what was that grimy blacksmith doing here”

“Excuse me?” You reply not out of confusion but out of shock at her bluntness.

“You saw her, didn’t you? The blacksmith,”

You put your gathered pieces of information together to realize this is one of Historia's sisters Ymir was protesting. She must've coincidently seen Ymir exiting the library.

“Yes, I did.” You realize Armin was probably trying to avoid answering her question but you can’t bring yourself to lie. 

“See it’s not that hard to tell a lady what she wants to hear,” she says momentarily turning back to Armin.

“Since this boy right here obviously doesn't know how to listen, I need to make sure that awful woman doesn’t make it past here again. Could you do that for me?”

“Could I ask why?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s in my dear sister Historias best interest,”

You think back to Ymir’s one-liner _“Take no shit do no harm”_.

“The library is free to all palace staff. I'm afraid no one can help you with that.”

She gives you an annoyed glare. 

“I can see you're worried about Historia but I know her to be very bright. I’m sure she'll be able to determine who’s worth her time. She is a grown woman after all,”

You can see by the way she's staring at you that she can’t decide whether to be offended or annoyed.

“Well she does need to learn somehow and she obviously doesn't listen to me. Whatever I need to be somewhere anyway,”

She leaves without saying goodbye leaving a trail of rose-scented perfume behind her.

Due to your previous experience as a seamstress, you’re not new to customer service. You’re also not too worried about the fact that you talked back to her. You have a hunch she won't remember you come a few minutes.

“(y/n)” You hear Historia say appearing from behind a bookcase. Her mouth is a bit agape. 

_How long has she been listening? Should I not have spoken on her behalf?_

“Thank you,” She says a bit awkwardly. You assure her that Lady Abel was just questioning library rules by trying to restrict Ymir’s access and that it really wasn’t a big deal.

“(y/n) could you tell me who borrowed _Tendencies of Electricity_? The pages seem to be fried. We’re going to need them to pay for this.” Armin says. 

He’s faced away from you so you can’t see the shapes of the letters of the book title. Out of all the mental panics you’ve had today this is by far the biggest. You’ve been doing mental summersaults all day trying to find alternatives to reading, but your mind turns blank trying to think of an excuse to help you.

You don’t know why but you look at Historia. Likely out of some subconscious last cry for help you silently meet her eyes while mentally screaming. The two of you don’t exchange a word. She stares at you for a good few seconds confused, but then by some miracle, you see something in Historias brain click as she takes the book log from you and starts reading down the column trying to find the previous owner of the book.

“It’s Hanges.” She says.

“She’s always so rough with books,” Armin says, not seeming to care that Historia was the one to speak.

“Armin, could I borrow (y/n) for a bit?” Historia asks. Armin says it’s fine and before you know it you're making your way to the religious section.

Historia leads you into a private study room before closing the door.

“Firstly can I ask how much you heard of me and Ymir's conversation?” Historia asks. She must’ve noticed you on your way to the closet.

“I overheard everything. I wasn’t trying to, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s fine I get it. It's hard not to overhear when people are arguing in a library,”

You decide to exchange a question.

“What’s your affiliation with Lady Abel?” You ask.

“We’re half-sisters. I have a handful of half-siblings. Not all of them are like Abel though. Frieda works here. She’s an astrologist. She's the reason I got into books in the first place.”

“How come you still work if you’re related to such nobility?”

“I respect them but I could never live like them, it's not my nature and I'm not used to the lifestyle. For most of my life, I wasn’t even allowed to state my relation to them.”

Your eyes widen.

“How come?”

“My mother was a maid. Only after Abel's mom died and my father married my mother I was allowed an official part of the family.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. The amount of gossip and secrets she carried must’ve been colossal. Thinking about your own problems of secrecy and gossip you feel an understanding.

“Abel's not a bad person. She’s actually been quite welcoming. It's just that she, just like many of my siblings, expect certain things from me now that I’m officially a Reiss.”

You nod.

Historia exchanges another question. A big one.

“(y/n) can you read?” She says it quickly like ripping off a bandaid. There's no point in trying to hide it now.

“No, I can’t.”

Historia looks into your eyes with horror. An understandable reaction to someone put in such a hopeless position.

She grabs your hand and gives your hand a protective squeeze. You assume she’s having the same moment of sympathy and understanding you had just moments ago.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she gives you a soft smile.

All the interactions you’ve had at the palace so far filled have been filled with unfamiliar politeness and uniformity. Ironically the interaction where you expose your grave secret has felt the most heartwarming.

“Could I ask about the situation with your father? I want to make sure I have the story without the gossip,” Historia asks.

You give her a summary of the situation.

“And who was your father?”

“I don’t know anything about him. My mother refuses to talk about him. All I know is that he was a man of letters.”

“He was an Archivist before he left right?”

You give an affirmative reply 

“Do you know why he left?”

“No, I don’t. I always assumed he wasn’t satisfied with what he had. But now that I’m at the palace I can’t imagine how he could’ve been unsatisfied.”

“I had the same though. I’m sure the royal army will find him soon enough though. You know since he was an Archivist there are probably files of his notes and annotations. If you're curious you can ask Armin to let you see them.”

You're about to tell Historia you will, but the door of the room suddenly opens. A tall woman with long smooth black hair and eyes that look non coincidentally similar to Historias walks in caring books.

“Hey Historia what are you doing here?” The woman asks in surprise.

“We just needed space away to talk. (y/n) this is Frieda, Frieda (y/n) she’s the new Archivist starting with us today.” Historia says rather excitedly to introduce you to her sister.

“Nice to meet you,” You say.

“Likewise, I’m the royal astronomer,” Frieda says moving to set some books down on the table. “I wonder what juicy gossip requires a private study room to discuss. Mind filling me in?” She says with a playful smile.

There's a moment of silence where you and Historia make eye contact. You decide to tell Frieda you just needed a breather from your first day, but Historia beats you to it.

“(y/n) likes Armin.”

You whip your head around to give Historia a betrayed look.

“Oh my god, really!” Frieda says clapping her hands together. “That's adorable and I assume the both of you only just met. Oh wow, it’s love at first sight then!”

You want to shut down the lie as soon as possible, but you know it would only complicate the story and re-open the question of what the two of you needed to talk about.

“Well, I have to head out. Bye Historia bye (y/n) invite me to the wedding!” Frieda says as she walks out the door.

You give Historia a death glare. She chuckles.

“Sorry, it’s the first thing that came to mind. You two would look cute together.”

You roll your eyes deciding to ignore her comment.

“The first impression your beloved sister has of me is that I’m falling in love with the first man I’m working with.”

Even though you're a bit pouty at Historia the two of you can't help but laugh. A smile rests on Historias face. But you can tell it isn't polite it's personal.

  * :•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•



It’s coming close to the end of your shift. You take the opportunity to ask about your father's archivist notes. 

“Hey Armin, I was wondering if I could go see previous archivist notes.”

“Of course, you are an Archivist. Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Richard Saulles,”

“Your father?”

“Yes, biologically he's my father I’ve never met him though. I was curious about the work he did while he was here.”

“I’ve actually read a few of his journals.”

“Really? What are they about.”

“They’re mostly analysis on historical political texts. They’re actually quite interesting. Too bad we’re supposed to dispose of them now that his stealing has been brought to light."

“By when are you supposed to get rid of them?”

“We weren’t given a time frame but we’ll most likely do it within the next month. I can definitely show you by then.”

You’d rather let Historia show you. She’d be able to read them to you without question and you find sweater vests company dull. Maybe you can come to a compromise.

“Historia was actually the one that recommended me to go see them. I can save you the hassle and just go with her.”

“Well actually since he doesn't work here anymore they’re considered archived. And so there’s a specific practice to handle them. It’ll be better if I come along as well.”

The sweet tone of his voice giving you bad news is really getting on your nerves. It’s fine it’s not like you can’t bring Historia along with you. You try to hide your pouting from him as you continue to check off names to the corresponding book titles. After a few moments of silent pouting, the silence is once again broken.

“You sure have a unique way of gripping a pen.” He says.

You look down at your hand. Your hand is in a fist and in the middle you have your pencil gripped. You tried holding the pen in the same elegant way you’ve seen others do it, but due to inexperience, you had trouble drawing straight lines. Also, your wrist started to hurt so you just decided to close the pen in a fist. Only now that someone’s pointed it out you realize how stupid it looks.

“Well I guess I’m just a unique person,” you say trying to sound focused on your work when really you’re still annoyed at him. You assume he doesn't pick up on the tone of your voice because a few moments later he speaks up again.

“What did you do before you came here?”

“I was a seamstress.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, I loved it. I already miss it”

Great, now he’s made you sad. 

You mentally groan as you remember it would be best if he didn't dislike you. It would be awkward and possibly disrespectful to end the conversation so shortly so you force yourself to further converse.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Almost two years.” He says.

“Really? I thought you must’ve worked here longer than Historia by the way she talked about your experience.”

“She's probably referring to the work I did during the twenty-year war.”

You're definitely taken back by that statement.

“What do you mean?”

“Well after a few years of service I ended up helping with strategy and so I came to this library often.”

Now you're actually interested in what he has to say.

“How long did you serve?”

“After around two years of training, three years.”

Out of all the previous life experience, you'd have guessed Armin to have military was nowhere in the ballpark. You couldn’t imagine his gentle manners getting anywhere near a gun. Even though there were mandatory drafts of men to serve, many nobles were allowed to opt-out of service. You think back to the years he was enlisted.

“If you don’t mind me asking how old are you?”

“Nineteen”

Your heart sinks when you realize he must’ve started training at 12 years of age. You feel embarrassed thinking about your previous prejudices based on nothing but assumed class. He surely didn't have the silver-spooned childhood you expected. 

“What made you enlist?”

“It’s a rather long story and the shifts almost over I’ll tell you another day.”

  * :•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•



There are about five minutes left till you can leave. 

Even though it’s the end of your shift you're still invested to get as much done as possible. You’ve definitely underworked what was expected of you so you're trying to make up for it through willpower.

You’re so engrossed you don’t notice someone coming up to the desk.

“Eren you always show up at the worst times” You hear Armin say

“Yeah, well I forgot I needed to pick up something” You hear an unfamiliar voice say. 

Out of sudden curiosity, you turn your head up to see a tall man with long black hair pulled into a bun with bright green eyes. He’s got a white dress shirt tucked into black pants. You inattentively note he’s handsome and you wouldn’t complain if he showed himself around here more often. His face seems familiar but you don’t have the mental energy to continue the thought. You stuff your nose back into the log. Armin hands him a book and he walks out.

“Did he meet your expectations?” Armin suddenly says.

“What?”

“That was Prince Eren,” Armin says. 

Your mouth falls agape. Armin softly smiles at your expression.

“Good night (y/n) see you tomorrow.” He says before walking off.

You shake yourself out of your stun. Your first encounter seeing a royal and you didn’t even recognize him. 

What surprises you, even more, is that Armin referred to him on a first-name basis. 

You decided to carry certain assumptions about nobility with the hopes that your preconceptions would prepare you against them. But now you’ve come to realize your assumptions will likely unnecessarily complicate your time here. It’s also not fair to the people you're making assumptions about.

Armin without a doubt didn’t deserve your annoyance and suspicions. You still barely know anything about him. Hell, you don’t know anything about the prince either.

You're once again blushing with embarrassment thinking about your previously held prejudices. 

You don't want to admit it, but there's another heat delivered to your face remembering _his_ presence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder whose presence reader is blushing about. ¬‿¬
> 
> My friend wanted to see Eren already so there I added him are you satisfied 🙄, jk love you 💖. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's left kudos, commented, and stayed thus far!
> 
> Comments are appreciated and really help motivate me so feel free to leave one below! Don't be afraid to critique, ask questions or just tell me how you feel about the story so far!


	4. Crossing the Threshold

The grass looks different here. Greener, healthier, and overall more lovely.

You make your way along the stone path feeling your flats press against the rocks. Birds are singing, there's a pleasant breeze, and the sun is beaming. You really chose the best day to take a walk. 

Seeing the east garden from your bedroom window during the past week has urged you to visit it in person. Since it’s almost autumn you want to enjoy the garden as much as you can before the radiant greens turn crunchy brown.

There are fountains, hedges, and all sorts of vegetation that have been imported from around the world right at your fingertips. You ghost your digits over a tall bunch of blooming red flowers as you stroll past them. The nature offers a pleasant contrast to the aged building you’ve been staying in. 

You would always walk to work when you had your old job. You miss the familiarity of it. The neighborly faces and fresh air offered a reliable kickstarter to each day.

Maybe garden strolls can be your new daily tradition. Albeit you would have to wake up extra early every day which sounds like self-inflicted torture. Even though you made sure to wake up early today you can’t stay long due to the fact you have to get to work.

The last week at your job was completely uneventful. Well, besides Hange coming in to pay for several books she’s destroyed. Nevermind that’s not really eventful.

You're not complaining though, your life has been complicated tenfold over the past few weeks. The last thing you need is some other life-changing inconvenience.

Turning the corner of some hedge you breathe in the smell of the flowers. Your forced visit here is starting to feel more like a blessing than a curse.

Once you turn the corner you see sitting on a bench a head of blonde hair and blue eyes. You recognize the man as your coworker, Armin. You take further notice that he’s reading.

 _He works in a library and still reads in his free time? Seems a bit excessive._ You think. 

You don’t know if you should say hello or not. Disturbing someone while reading just to say hello is disrespectful, right? What even is reading etiquette? You decide to walk past him in hopes he doesn't notice you. 

You don’t despise him to the point of purposely ignoring him. You actually don’t mind him. You just hoped for a break from books on your stroll. You move swiftly across the stones praying to Ymir he doesn't lookup.

Just to your luck, the tattering of your rushed steps was enough to catch his attention. His head pops up.

“(y/n) I almost didn’t see you.” He says.

You turn to him.

“Hi Armin, I was going to say hi, but I didn’t want to disturb your reading. You seemed quite invested.”

“I wasn’t really. I was actually re-reading-”

 _Oh great, another book monologue._ You start to tune him out. Your polite patience is forgotten as you find yourself unable to fake your interest. 

It’s not that his rants are boring. The stories and politics are pleasant to hear when the silence of the library becomes sickeningly boring. And the fact he can get so passionate is heartwarming. It’s just that you’ve been hearing these rants (that are mostly one-sided due to your lack of knowledge) for days and you want to get a break before your next shift starts.

He thankfully notices.

“You must be tired of hearing about books all day.” He says scooting over on the bench wordlessly telling you to sit next to him.

“Yeah,” you laugh dryly while planting yourself next to him.

You turn your head to meet him. You're usually not this face to face while working with him so you’ve never noticed how he looks up close. He’s quite pretty for a grown man. 

Any compliments you can give him are pushed to the back of your mind once you notice his eyes staring towards the right of your face.

“You have something in your hair,” He says. 

You start patting down your head. But you can tell you're unsuccessful by the way he keeps staring at whatever spec of dust decided to oh so conveniently make this situation awkward.

“Umm … do you want me to get it out?" He asks.

You nod. His hand gently comes up to your right but before he can pick it out an abrupt discourse erupts behind you.

“Well, what’s our plan?” Says a slightly familiar voice.

“My what?” Says a completely unfamiliar voice.

“Oh my god, we’re going to be executed.”

You and Armin turn around to see 2 soldiers next to a statue. 

Except the statue is headless. 

And the head is in one of their hands.

“Jean, Marco?” Armin says.

The soldier with the head in his hand has a goatee and long ash brown hair. You recognize the other soldier with freckles as the one that broke open doors to the court.

“Armin! You’ve gotta help us out with this one.” Says the freckled one.

“Ah, shit we gotta hide somewhere.” The other soldier says paranoidly side-eyeing his surroundings.

“Really Jean? And how far do you expect to get with the head of Ymir in your hands?” the boy you assume to be Marco says crossing his arms.

“Well we can’t just stand here it’s a crime scene!” Jean protests.

“It’s your own crime scene!” Marco says.

“What happened?” Armin interjects.

“Well Jean was practicing swinging his sword and he thought Ymir would be a good test dummy.”

“It's a statue made out of _stone_ , how could I have known it would break!”

Armin disapprovingly glares at Jean.

“I think it’s finally time you own up to your actions,” Armin says. 

You can’t blame Armin. You don’t know Jean, but if someone had the thought process to sword fight a statue there’s not much sympathy one can offer.

“Oh, Armin please please please help us out of this one!” Jean says.

Armin looks unconvinced. You can tell by Jean's face he’s desperately trying to think of something to change Armins mind until his eyes fall over you.

“Oh, I know! I can help you get with your lady friend over here.” Jean says, raising his eyebrows at you. Armin frowns at him.

_Yeah he’s definitely hopeless_

“Ugh, fine umm,” as Jean continues thinking the sound of grass crunching footsteps surfaces. 

Jean drags Marco behind a hedge at full speed leaving you and Armin looking at whoever's walking over. 

It’s another soldier. He’s got Auburn hair with bangs swept to the side. He looks at the statue.

“What the hell?” He says. He looks over to you and Armin. “Was this thing always headless?”

Neither of you responds.

He kicks a bit of freshly broken stone on the ground.

“Did you see anything suspicious?” He asks the two of you. You glance over to Armin. He hasn’t said anything yet but he already looks defeated.

“No we haven't,” Armin says.

A part of you respects the loyalty Armin has for his friends. Even if Jean doesn't deserve it.

Another part of you is taken back that he said: “we”. Is he confident enough to think he can drag you into this lie?

Before you can say anything the soldier walks off, likely to report the headless Ymir.

Jean and Marco emerge from the hedge.

“I knew you’d come through for us,” Jean says with a grin offering juxtaposition to Armin's depressed-looking expression.

“Well, I guess you have to help us with the rest of this situation now.” Macro smiles scratching the back of his head. Before Armin can respond Jean interjects.

“Wait a minute”. He says he says re acknowledging your presence. “Who are you?” He gives you a threatening glare. 

You can see right through his stare. He just wants to know if you’ll say anything. Even though you don’t want to start off on a bad foot with Armin's friends if the situation calls for it you're not getting fired for helping someone cover up the defilement of a statue. It would kill you and your mother for heaven's sake your not stupid.

“My name is (y/n). I’m an archivist. Honestly, I think you should turn yourself in.” You say keeping eye contact with Jean.

It’s definitely not the answer he wanted to hear. He furrows his eyebrows and his mouth forms a scowl. 

Small intense brown eyes stare you down but you don't shy away. He can make faces at you all day; he hasn’t given you a solid reason to keep shut.

Suddenly you see something in his eyes shift. His face relaxes and he’s got a smirk.

“Well you’re already an accomplice, aren't you? If we’re speaking in truths you didn’t say you saw anything suspicious. If I was to testify that wouldn’t hold up well.”

The thought makes you want to vomit. You’d rather practice reading than testify in court again which to you means a lot. 

Jean takes hint of your expression. 

“We should hurry up before Flotch comes back with more soldiers,” Jean says 

“Hurry with what?” Marco says.

“A plan” Jean responds. 

There’s sudden silence as the three of you stare at Armin. He sighs.

“Well, the first thing we have to do is get rid of the evidence,” Armin says getting up and taking the head of Ymir. “Jean, Marco you're going to carry it.”

Without question, Jean and Marco pick up either end of the statue. 

“(y/n) you're going to walk ahead of us making sure we don’t run into anyone on our way,” Armin says.

“Where are we going?” You ask

“The ocean behind the palace,” Armin says.

“Why would we-”. Marco starts.

“We don't have time for questions!” Jean says. Armin agrees.

“(y/n) if you cross paths with someone, talk extra loudly so we know where they are. We’ll be hiding behind you.” Armin says.

You start a few paces ahead of them trying to act as normal as possible. You're suddenly hyper-aware of your walking, posture, and all other mannerisms.

A depressed sigh escapes your lips remembering how your day started off so beautifully. Now, look at you. You're nervously sweating while aiding in stealing royal property

You see an older couple walking together. You clear your throat ready to alert the three behind you.

“Good morning.” You say in an abnormally loud voice. 

The couple gives you an awkward smile and continues on walking.

God that was awful. You hope you don’t have to do that again. 

  * :•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•



By the time you make it behind the palace, you’ve had to loudly greet people 6 more times. So much for wanting good impressions.

Once the four of you come together you can hear church bells ringing. You wince. You were supposed to be at your job by now. What excuse are you going to give Historia? 

The lapping of the ocean serves as a backdrop to your worrying.

“Well, now what?” Jean asks.

“We throw the statue in the ocean and continue our lives like nothing happened,” Armin says.

“There’s no way we can do that! We’ve already defiled Ymir enough we can’t throw her in the ocean. It’s an insult to our king and our gods!” Marco protests.

“Marco this isn’t about preserving our moral loyalty this is about keeping our jobs!” Jean says.

Marco still protests by giving a rant about his loyalty to the king. You can tell nothing will make him change his mind.

“We can sneak her into one of the library rooms.” You say.

“How in the world could we manage that?” Jean asks.

“Well most people are working by now and there are all sorts of furniture and pillars you can hide behind.” You respond.

“That does sound like our best option now that we can’t dump her in the ocean. There’s a back entrance we can go through here.” Armin says

The four of you employ the same strategy as you did in the garden. You yell out greetings and they hide behind various pieces of furniture behind you.

Eventually, all of you enter through a side door to the historical section of the library. The four of you agree to set the statue in a miscellaneous artifact room that doesn’t get much attention.

Once you make it to the room you’re immediately hit with dust. Armin wasn’t lying about the minimal attention this room gets. It’s dark and you can taste the stale air. There are also various pieces of furniture and boxes scattered around.

Jean and Marco place the statue in the corner of the room while you find a sheet to cover it with.

“Once we have no contraband on us we can walk out norma-” Armin starts. There’s a sound of footsteps approaching.

“Hello? Who’s there,” says a strident voice coming towards the door.

Jean gives Armin a troubled glare. Armin motions them to hide behind some old globe. Armin holds Ymir's head behind him. Unable to find a place to hide behind in time you settle standing next to Armin.

The door opens. It’s Oruo.

“Oh hello!” You say trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible. 

In the doorway, he looks both of you up and down. You're both sweaty and pretty disheveled from your situation.

“What are you two doing in here?” He asks in his usually lengthy tone.

“I was showing (y/n) the artifact rooms,” Armin says. 

Oruo looks unconvinced.

“Really, there’s not much to show ... Petra needs you for some worker’s evaluation; she's been waiting for you to arrive. You should hurry up before she starts pestering me again.”

Oruo stands in the doorway waiting for Armin to move.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Er actually I really needed to finish showing (y/n) something”. Armin says rather vaguely.

Oruo silently stands with a confused look on his face. His eyes fall to Armin's hands behind his back. His eyes go wide. He scoffs

“God I don’t even want to know what filth is covering your hands.” 

He looks at you

“You’re already working here, you don’t need to sleep around for sympathy points.”

He slams the door.

Although Oruo's comment is a complete misunderstanding it still drives you into shameful self-reflection. 

You just went out of your way to go against the palace, risking everything. And what did you get out of it? Somebody thinking you’re sleeping around for good esteem. 

And it wasn't just any crime you were prepared to _steal_. How much better are you than your father?

A sudden explosive laugh from Jean brings you out of your thoughts.

Jean and Marco emerge from behind the globe. Jean puts his hand onto Marco's shoulder to steady himself.

“I can’t believe it, did you hear him!” Jean says breathlessly.

Marco seems to take notice of your expression.

“Don’t look so upset, miss we didn’t get caught, did we?” He smiles.

“ _God I don’t even want to know what FILTH,_ ” Jean mocks before erupting into laughter again.

“We better get going before Flotch gets suspicious,” Marco says over Jeans wheezing. 

“Bye lady can’t thank you enough. We’ll see you around.” Jean says beaming. They walk out leaving you and Armin alone.

Dust flies around the room in the few seconds of silence after Jean and Marco leave.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into that,” Armin says.

“Yeah, just don’t do it again.” You say a bit dejected looking at the ground.

Armin had no business bringing you into this whole mess by specifically saying “we” when answering Flotch. The broken statue wasn’t your conflict to begin with and Jean and Marco weren’t your friends. If he had just considered your opinion you wouldn’t have been late to work, you wouldn’t have done something illegal and Oruo never would’ve found you.

“Don’t worry I doubt they’ll start an investigation. With the number of statues in this palace, they won't notice.” He says but you're not really listening. 

You don’t look at him. It'll probably make you angry. You also don’t want to tell him what you’re thinking. You doubt you’ll get anything out of it.

You nod and start your way towards the door. Historia's probably waiting for you. So much for having hope in Armin's character.

“Wait (y/n), I just thought you’d be on board since you seem to understand when people are in tough situations. I’m not trying to make excuses it’s just that I get my judgment was wrong and I’m sorry I… ”

You finally look at him and his face is full of regret. When you make eye contact he averts his gaze.

“And it was a chance to make friends with Jean and Marco. They owe you one now,” he adds.

You're not against helping people in tough situations but, today you felt the risk was too great. 

Despite your revived inclinations to hate Armin for endangering you, you can’t bring yourself to despise him.

You're not new to the idea of people needing help in grave situations where there’s a lot to risk. Take Historia, she's taking a risk to help you. So you can’t bring yourself to truly regret helping Jean and Marco. And you definitely can’t bring yourself to hate Armin.

“When you put it that way I don’t feel so bad about helping.” You say giving a gentle smile to ease the tension.

Armin's face washes over with relief.

He steps closer to you and reaches to the side of your face. You freeze.

“You still had that spec in your hair,” he says pulling his hand away.

“Oh, thanks.”

You can’t be sure because of the dark but you think he’s a bit red in the face.

  * :•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•



“Are these really necessary? I'm not even going to touch them?” You say putting on the coarse leather gloves you bet are older than the books themselves.

“It’s about learning the process,” Armin says

“Learning process my ass I doubt I’ll even breath on them,” You say.

“They’re just gloves, they're not gonna hurt you,” Historia says.

The three of you are currently in one of the rooms holding the archivist notes and annotations. The room is of a similar style to the rest of the Historic section of the library. There are shelves holding boxes filled with journals, files, etc. You’re seated at a table with nothing on it besides a protective mat used for placing old books on.

It strikes you as a bit eerie that this is the only connection you’ll get from your father. Not through him physically, but from what’s left behind. In a script, you can’t even understand. There's a part of you that doesn't want to know the thoughts he had. You don’t want to believe he was a conscious life force. He never wanted to be a part of your life to begin with and he doesn't deserve a place now.

“There was actually something I wanted to show you,” Armin says, gently placing journals on the mat.

He cracks the book open but inside there are barely any pages. Instead, it’s just jagged ripped lines.

“These weren’t always here. A few months ago I read these and they weren’t like this.”

Your eyes go wide.

“Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?” Historia asks 

“No.” He says with a concentrated look on his face. “This defilement is really disturbing. I was thinking about telling Hange but she’s rather loud about investigations. I was waiting to see if anything else came up before it became more public.”

Armin definitely sounds like he’s trying to crack down on something. He doesn't have any leads, but somehow he’s confident enough to tell the both of you. Looking at all the evidence (which is basically none) you and Historia have the same amount of evidence against you compared to the rest of the palace. Actually more since you have access to this room.

“How can you even trust us?” You ask.

“Besides knowing Historia’s moral character for a long time she was taking a religious retreat when the pages disappeared so I doubt she’d be able to do it or even be able to organize it.”

He turns to you

“And if you were behind it why would you ask to see the journals? Unless you wanted to insert herself into the investigation. But that sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. And unless you're faking your cluelessness I don’t think you even knew where this room was before today. ”

After looking over the journals some more you find that complete journals have gone missing. 

Even though you were there for your whole lunch break there’s not much you can gather. The three of you promise to continue going through the journals another day.

“Hey (y/n) could you help Frieda move some books? I was going to help but I promised to visit Ymir during my lunch break.” Historia asks. You agree and head to the religious section.

You see Frieda cutting open some boxes and placing their contents on the shelves.

“Oh hey (y/n)!” Frieda calls waving you over.

“Where’s Historia?” She asks

“She sent me to help you. She said she had to meet somebody.” You say vaguely. You don’t know if Frieda is on board with Historia and Ymir's relationship.

“Well in that case help me open these boxes” She smiles handing you an extra knife.

“Historia told me you were going to see your father’s notes today. Was it interesting?” Frieda says.

You haven't discussed who to tell and who not to tell about the journals but you bet Historia will tell Frieda anyways.

“There wasn’t much to find. A lot of pages were ripped out.”

“What? How come?” Frieda says taken back.

“Well, if someone ripped out pages there was probably something someone felt was better off not knowing. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had to do with my father's disloyalty to the palace.”

“That’s a really good analysis (y/n)! You should start your own notes section.”

That’s really what you needed to hear after Oruo's comment. Maybe there’s a part of you that deserves to be here.

“How are things going with Armin” She smiles.

You totally forgot about that lie. You’d tell her you're not interested but what would that say about you? You're ready to move onto the next guy after a week of falling for them.

“Umm well … ”. You start.

“You know I’m a bit famous when it comes to matchmaking. I was the reason Historia and Ymir got together." 

“Really?”

“Yeah, also -”. She goes on listing couples names you don't recognize.

You guess Frieda's really into other people's relationships.

“What about you? Are you dating anyone?” You ask.

“The good matchmaker is never in a relationship.” She says closing your eyes like reciting a sacred text. You guess that’s right. People that give good relationship advice don’t tend to be in relationships.

“I’ll try to get you and him in some more alone shifts.” With him she says.

Definitely not. You just want to be with Historia.

“I don’t want to force anything you know?” You say.

“No relationships starts without a proper push”

You suppose she’s right. But you don’t want a relationship.

“I just don’t want to make it too obvious,” you say, still hoping for a way out of this situation.

“Without being obvious how are they supposed to know? Before you know it you’ll start to be friends and then you’ll feel like you can’t tell him! Do you want that to happen (y/n)!”

You definitely don’t want that to happen. Wait, you don’t even like him! You can see how Frieda's matchmaking skills sway people. But you’re done with the books.

You're once again stuck without a way out.

“Well alright.”

Frieda claps her hands together. 

“Yay! I’ll go update the shift list. Thanks for helping (y/n) see you around.”  
  
You say your goodbyes to Frieda.

You sigh. Back to checkout duty

  * :•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•



“Armin someone’s coming over”. You say momentarily noticing a figure approaching the front desk. But your head snaps up once you recognize who it is.

You remember the green glint in his eyes as well as his dark brown hair. Only this time he’s wearing a suit coat.

Are you supposed to make eye contact? Probably not right?

You keep your head stuffed in the log hoping Armin will come back before he gets to you.

But just to your luck the distance between the two of you is cut and Armin is still concentrating on organizing books.

“Hi,” He says.

You peek your eyes up and smile.

“Hello, your majest-”

_FUCK you're only supposed to call the king that!_

“I mean prince Eren” you correct yourself.

Embarrassed you look back into the log.

He chuckles. His hand reaches for the edge of the binder and closes it. You feel your heart in your throat. 

“What's your name, your majesty,” He says playfully.

“(y/n) Saulies”

_God, where is Armin when you need him._

“I think you should come and read for me sometime.” 

Can you even make an excuse? Can you say no?

“I’d be honored.”

Armin comes back.

“You’re late on giving that book back,” Armin says.

“I got busy,” Eren says, still looking at you. Armin seems preoccupied in sorting out books to notice.

“Bye,”. He smiles before walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey reader!
> 
> I’m trying to be as vague as I can when it comes to hair/weight/skin and other physical descriptors because I know how reader-insert fanfiction isn’t always inclusive. The reason I'm bringing this up is that I mentioned hair in this chapter which is very diverse. So if I write something that sticks out as noninclusive please drop it in the comments.
> 
> I’m also planning on writing a Yelena/Reader slow burn so keep your eyes out :)).
> 
> I can't thank everyone enough that's commented, left kudos, and stayed so far y'all make my day 🥲. Again don't hesitate to leave comments below!

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder who (y/n) will meet in the next chapter ;).
> 
> This is my first fic so if you have critique please leave suggestions!


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